Are you sure?
by UnabashedBird
Summary: "Chicken or Beef?" AU where Luke tells Lorelai about what Dean said when he was drunk, and Lorelai goes to talk to Dean about it, forcing him to reconsider whether he's really ready to get married.
1. Chapter 1

There was a light tap at the door to the room Dean had been assigned for getting ready.

"Yeah?" Dean asked; he was going to die of embarrassment if it was his dad with more wedding night advice.

"It's Lorelai. Can I come in?"

"Uh, I guess?"

She did, closing the door softly behind her.

"Wow. Don't you look sharp."

Oh boy. Lorelai Gilmore opening with a compliment on his appearance, wearing an expression he recognized: she was avoiding getting to the point. "Lorelai, what are you doing here?"

"I had an interesting conversation with Luke a few minutes ago."

Unbelievable. He shook his head, stood up, refusing to face her head on. It was his wedding day, for God's sake.

"No, Dean, it's not what you think."

"Oh yeah? So tell me, what do I think?" He didn't try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"I'm not here because when you were drunk last night you started going on about Rory. Well, OK, I am, but not because it was Rory."

"No?" He still wouldn't look at her.

"No. I'm here because you're a great kid, and I care about you, and I don't want you to make a mistake."

"The mistake being not, what, breaking Lindsey's heart so I can get back together with Rory even after all the ways she broke mine?"

"Oh, kiddo, _no_. The mistake being rushing into a commitment that I think even you suspect you aren't ready for. You and Lindsey are eighteen, you haven't even been together for a year yet, you've barely started college, you don't know what you want to do with your life. Just because you are quite possibly the most mature, well-adjusted, _tall_ teenage boy in the history of the universe doesn't mean you're ready for this."

He turned to her then, an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, because _Lorelai_. There was just no one like her. Lindsey's mom was great, but he couldn't imagine ever having a conversation like this with her. He couldn't imagine that, if he and Lindsey had broken up, she would have told him that that didn't mean he and her had, because she wasn't a . . . friend, like Lorelai was. Well, maybe not so much friend as eccentric aunt. Eccentric aunt who, with the exception of the misunderstanding about breakup #1, had been nothing but good to him. On the other hand . . . "So, what, leave Lindsey at the altar? I can't do that. I love her, she loves me, and we make each other happy. I know that marriage is hard work, but hey, I'm a hard worker. We'll figure it out as we go."

"Maybe. Or maybe you'll crash and burn because you're very, very young and you're at an age where people change and grow a lot in a short amount of time. Have you and Lindsey ever had a fight? Not like a little argument about what movie to see or what the color scheme for the wedding would be, but a real fight with yelling and tears and anger and frustration and wondering what the hell you ever saw in this person in the first place?"

"No, of course not!"

"Not 'of course not,' buddy, because when you're in it for the long haul those fights happen, and you're telling me you're ready to commit to her for life without any practice having them?"

"Because you're such an expert on commitment and working through things."

There was a silence.

"Lorelai—"

"No, you're right. I blew it with Max. I blew it because I let things move too fast, so that by the time I realized I wasn't actually ready for the big commit, it was too late to not be dramatic and awful about it. If I had been more honest about where I was at, then maybe we could have stayed together, and then, after a while, I would have been ready because we would have been together long enough for me to really see him fitting into my life in a permanent way. But I didn't because I was in love and everything felt good and wonderful and right, and when a relationship feels like that it's hard to have perspective on it, to see the ways it might be heading for a train wreck, so I didn't, and I blew it."

"Well, I'm not you."

"No, you're not. But I think we have something in common."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Sometimes, people come into our lives, and no matter how much time passes, no matter who else we come to care about, no matter how sure we are that it's for the best that we're not with them anymore, we never fully move past them, never fully get over them. Rory's dad, Christopher, is like that for me. And I think Rory might be like that for you. I called Christopher during my bachelorette party. And you started talking about Rory when you got drunk at your bachelor party. Calling Christopher didn't mean that I should get back together with him, but it was one of the many warning signs that I wasn't ready to marry Max. Do you think that, maybe, you thinking that much about Rory on the night before you wedding is a sign that you aren't ready to marry Lindsey?"

"You're really trying to talk me out of this, aren't you?"

"I just want you to be sure. Because if you aren't, and your marriage doesn't work out, that's going to be a lot worse than calling it off the day of, for you and Lindsey and everyone who cares about you."

Dean realized that Lorelai was saying things that at least a part of him had been hoping adults—real adults, like his parents—would say to him almost ever since he got engaged. He knew why they hadn't: his parents had gotten married at 19 and had his oldest sister a year later, and they were happy and OK. And his sister Janie had done the same, and she and Kevin were happy and his nephew was adorable and loved and cared for. But the thing was, he wasn't so sure he wanted that life. Well, he wanted marriage and a family, yeah, for sure. But there was this voice in the back of his head, Rory's voice, telling him that he was smart, that he could do whatever he put his mind to, he just had to figure out what he wanted and go after it. And it would be nice to maybe look forward to going to work someday, rather than being content doing whatever so he could hopefully fund all the things in his life that actually made him happy. And Lindsey . . . why had it never struck him as a warning sign that she was so willing to just go along with his plans, that she talked about the future in terms of the size of their house and the model of their car, that she just assumed that he would be able to provide those things even though he wasn't even through his first semester of college and hadn't declared a major yet?

He sank into a chair, staring at the floor. He watched Lorelai's shoes approach, felt her reach out and gently lift his chin to bring his face up to meet her concerned, sympathetic expression.

"There's that uncertainty I thought might be lurking."

"What do I do? Lorelai, what do I do? I can't do this to Lindsey, to everyone. Oh, God, and everything's all paid for, the wedding and the reception and everything! I can't do this to them!"

She grabbed another chair and pulled it over so she could sit down facing him. "It's going to suck, and I won't pretend otherwise. People are going to be hurt. But they'll get past it eventually, and hopefully recognize that, in the long run, you did the right thing. You can be much more mature than I was and have an actual conversation with Lindsey, as opposed to running away in the wee hours of the morning and leaving everyone to draw the inevitable conclusion. She'll probably still be angry, and no matter what she'll be hurt, but there's a slim chance that you'll be able to talk her into not breaking up and just taking a few steps back instead, if that's something you want to try. And if you need to be away from everyone right after you do this, I'll kick Rory back to Yale a day early and you can crash at my place. Or I'll make Luke let you stay with him. I've got your back, Dean. Always."

He nodded slowly, staring at the ground. The fact that it was this easy, one little five-minute conversation and he was sure that calling off the wedding was the right thing, was proof enough that it was. God, this was going to be awful. "Thanks, but I think I'd better just face all the music. Rip the bandaid off all at once, you know?"

She nodded. "Want me to stick around?"

"No, you'd better not. I don't want people to get the wrong idea, you know?"

"Right. Of course. Wouldn't want people thinking that this is about Rory."

"Exactly."

"OK then. I'll sneak myself out."

He smiled then; he couldn't help it. They both stood, and she turned to go. "Lorelai?"

She turned back. "Yeah?"

He swallowed. "Thank you. I . . . " he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling and blinking back the sudden moisture in his eyes.

She walked back and pulled him into a quick, tight hug. "You call me any time, OK?"

"OK," he said.

She patted his shoulder. "Good luck." And she left.

After a couple of minutes, Dean took a deep breath, and went to go find Lindsey.

. . .

A month after the day Dean almost got married, Rory got a call from a number she didn't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rory, it's me."

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, hi. So . . . how are things?"

"Oh, you know, about as well as could be expected."

"Right."

"Listen, I was thinking about going home this coming weekend, and I was wondering whether there was any chance I'd see you in Stars Hollow?"

Rory's heart leaped. "Yes. Definitely."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if you're sure that's what you want."

"Yes. Definitely."

"OK, it's a date. I mean, not a _date_ date, obviously, just using the expression signifying that we are in agreement that we will see one another at the aforementioned time, and—"

"_Rory_."

"Yeah?"

"It can be a date date if you want it to be."

". . . Oh."

"Or not. Whatever. I mean, no pressure or anything. Just—"

"Yes."

"'Yes,' what?"

"Yes, it can be a date date. I mean, we can start small, get coffee, re-create the first time you hung out at the house by watching movies with my mom. But it can be a date date. Can we stop saying date date now? It's starting to sound weird."

"Sure. Yes. Absolutely."

"'Sure, yes, absolutely,' what?"

"Sure, yes we can get coffee and watch movies with your mom, absolutely we can stop saying date date because it totally does sound weird."

"So, I'll see you at the coffee shop on Saturday at, say, 2?"

"Perfect."

Rory grinned. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah, Rory?"

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. And now I'm really hating that I have class in ten minutes. Will you hate me if I ditch so we can keep talking?"

"Dean Forester, don't you dare."

"So you would hate me."

"No, of course not. I could never hate you. But you're in college and class is important, and if you skip, how will you tell me every single thing about it over coffee on Saturday?"

"Every single thing?"

"Yes. Lecture topic, the tone of the professor's voice, who asked what questions, on a scale of 1 to 10 how hard it was to stay awake, was it actually necessary to stay up until midnight to get that reading done or could you have blown it off in favor of a little more beauty sleep? All the gory details."

Dean laughed. God, she'd missed that.

"OK, it's a deal. I will get off the phone, go to class, and bore you to death with the details on Saturday at 2 at the coffee shop."

"It's a date."

"A date date, even."

"Go to class, Dean."

"Fine. See you Saturday."

"I look forward to it."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Well, I thought this was going to be a one-shot, but then I really, REALLY wanted to write more of Rory and Dean being cute and sweet and wonderful, so I no longer know how long this is going to be or where it's going to end up or how frequently it will be updated. What can I say, these two are my happy place when things are going well for them, and since there wasn't nearly enough of that in canon, obviously the solution is to write it, so here we are.

* * *

><p>A little over an hour later, Rory's phone went off. It was the same number as before.<p>

"Dean?"

"Hey."

"Wait, I didn't even ask before: did you get a cell phone?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Cool! So, what's up?"

"Well, I was thinking, why wait until Saturday when I will have forgotten really important details like the number of times the couple sitting in front of me played footsie to tell you about class, when I can just use this handy dandy cell phone to call you now and tell you."

"Smart boy."

"Not compared to the people you run with these days."

"Don't talk like that. You're in college, aren't you? And there's lots of ways to be smart. I can almost guarantee you that no one here would know how to build a car practically from scratch. That's smart, interesting, and useful. Triple whammy right there."

"OK, OK, you win."

"And all is right with the world. So what was this class in which the couple in front of you played footsie?"

"Biology. The lecture was on, let's see, uh . . . mitosis and meiosis. Reproduction stuff."

"Well, no wonder they couldn't keep their feet off each other."

"Yes, no wonder the lesbian couple was incredibly turned on by cellular reproduction. And to be fair, I'm not sure we really have the right to judge other people for a little PDA, given our history."

"Well, we never played footsie in class."

"True, but we never had the opportunity, either."

"You and your mile-long legs make an excellent point." Rory felt herself blushing, and was suddenly very glad this conversation was happening over the phone. "But, to return to the original topic, how many times _did_ the daughters of Sappho play footsie during what I'm sure was a very riveting lecture on mitosis and meiosis?"

"The daughters of who?"

"Oh, sorry. Sappho was a female Greek poet from the island of Lesbos. You see where this is going?"

"I think I got the gist, yeah. But to answer your question, I forget."

"You open the conversation with tantalizing hints about footsie documentation, and now you forget? Shame on you."

"Well, you distracted me."

"How? Tell me so I can make sure I don't do it again and miss out on such vital information in the future."

"I don't think that's possible, since you were just being you."

"Darn me. I guess I'll have to be someone else when I don't want you to forget things."

"Sorry, that won't work either."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll be so distracted from missing you while you're pretending to be someone else that I'll forget whatever it is that you were trying to make me remember by not being you."

Rory smiled. "I just can't win."

"Guess not. Hey, so I didn't ask you what you're up to today."

"Oh, you know, class, studying, work."

"Work? You have a job?"

"Yes. I work ten hours a week in the very exciting field of scanning people's ID cards as they enter the dining hall."

"Ah."

"What about you? Keeping solvent?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I got a job with plant services here on campus, and Taylor lets me pick up shifts when I'm home for the weekend."

"Are you doing that this weekend?"

"Nope. This weekend I wanted to clear my schedule."

"Really? Why?"

"For you."

"Oh." She was blushing again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . that sounded . . . I don't mean to come on so strong. I just meant that I was going to go home regardless, and I was hoping we could hang, and if you said we could I wasn't going to pick up any shifts because I wanted to have time for you and my family and homework, but if you said no than I would have. That's all I meant."

"Dean, it's OK. More than OK. I . . . I'm glad you wanted to see me."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course. I would have been glad even if I hadn't wanted it to be a date date. There I go, saying 'date date' again."

"Gettin' to be a bad habit."

"Right? All I mean is, we're friends, and we hadn't hung out and talked for a long time, what with . . . everything, so I would've been glad we were going to do that no matter what. That's all I meant. Well, no it's not, because I'm kind of really happy that it's a date."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You were right about . . . can we not do this part of the conversation over the phone?"

"Sure thing."

"Thanks. So . . . do you have any other classes today?"

"Bio was my last one, but I had an engineering class this morning."

"Engineering? But I thought you were undeclared."

"I am, but I'm kinda leaning that way, and it's one of those majors you're supposed to dive right into, so I figured, better safe than sorry, take the intro classes, and if I end up changing no harm done"

"Again with the smart. So how is it?"

"I really like it. I mean it's tough, but I like it. A lot of math, though."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, well, no pain no gain, right? And there's a really great math help center, so I do OK. It's easiest when I can figure out connections to the way things actually work, visualize it, you know?"

"Not really, but I'll take your word for it. Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I actually have to get ready for work."

"OK. We'll pick up again on Saturday."

"Oh, I think with the help of these fancy cell phone gadgets we can manage to talk again before then."

"I'd like that."

"It's settled then. I'll call you when my shift is over and tell you how many couples were eating each others' faces instead of their food."

"Now that we were somewhat guilty of."

"We were at that. Ah, well, young love and all that."

"Yeah, and all that."

"I'll talk to you later, Dean."

"You'd better."


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Saturday arrived, Rory and Dean had spent hours on the phone, talking about class and work and friends and movies and music and books and Rory didn't know what all, just that she never wanted the conversations to end, and she couldn't wait to have one face-to-face.

At eleven in the morning, Rory called Lane.

"Help."

"Best friend reporting for duty. What's the emergency?"

"I need you talk me out of taking my homework to Weston's and camping out until 2."

"2 being the time you're supposed to meet Dean. Three hours from now."

"That's the one."

"The words 'desperate' and 'clingy' are coming to mind."

"Yes, but they could be replaced with 'eager' and 'committed,' at which point this whole show up super early endeavor becomes both sweet and logical."

"You want to use 'committed' in reference to a coffee date?"

"A coffee date with _Dean_."

"You mean Dean your first boyfriend whose heart you broke when you fell in love with another guy while you were still with him and yet he was the one who broke up with you once he realized he'd lost you and you couldn't bring yourself to end it? The Dean who moved on and started dating someone else and was going to _marry_ her, and then called off the wedding the day of just over a month ago, supposedly after a conversation with your mother? This is the Dean we're talking about?"

"OK, OK, I see your point. Wait, what do you mean he called off the wedding after a conversation with my mother?"

"The all-seeing Miss Patty saw Lorelai leaving the church by a side door right before the you-know-what hit the fan."

"Why wouldn't she tell me this?"

"Miss Patty?"

"_No_, my mom."

"Maybe she didn't think it was any of your business. I mean, she and Dean never stopped being friendly even when you weren't talking to him because the break-up was still raw, so maybe she was doing her 'Lorelai dispenses sage advice to the masses' thing. Like as his friend. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with you."

"Maybe," Rory said skeptically.

"Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh? What uh-oh?"

"You have that voice."

"What voice?"

"Like you've latched onto something and you aren't going to let it go. I shouldn't have mentioned Lorelai maybe talking to Dean. It's all rumor and speculation anyway. I wouldn't . . . you're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Rory was having trouble concentrating on the conversation. What if Dean _had_ called off the wedding because of her? What had her mom said? It wasn't like Rory had been pining for him. She hadn't been thrilled about him getting married, sure, but that was because he was her friend and statistically speaking people who married that young ended up divorcing, and she didn't want him to have to go through that. That had been all . . . except maybe it hadn't.

"Earth to Rory."

"What? Oh. Sorry, Lane."

"Can we rewind this conversation to the part where I was talking you out of going to Weston's three hours early?"

"Yes."

"Great. So, aside from the clingy desperation factor, there's the question of what you would actually accomplish. Dean is a reasonable human being and he isn't going to show up more than ten minutes early. OK, so you get ten extra minutes, and he figures out that you've been there for a long time, which leads to potentially awkward questions about _why_ you were there so early. You follow?"

"I follow. Your mistake is that you're trying to logic me out of this, when I already know that logic has very little to do with it."

"Well, what does Lorelai say?"

"She's at the inn."

"Worse and worse."

"Help me Lane Kim, you're my only hope!"

"OK. Compromise. I will meet you at Luke's and we will both spend the next two-and-a-half hours pretending to do our homework. Then, at 1:30, when you can't stand it anymore, I will let you go to Weston's. Deal?"

"Deal!"

"Great. See you soon!"

Lane's strategy didn't quite go as planned, because they'd only just gotten settled at a table when Rory's phone went off. Luke glared and pointed to his sign, and Rory scurried outside as she answered. "Dean?"

"Hey."

"Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, except that I cannot for the life of me concentrate on my homework. What about you? What are you up to?"

"I'm at Luke's with Lane. We were both going to pretend to do our homework for a while. You could come pretend with us, if you want."

"I'd like that. You're sure it's OK with Lane?"

"I'll check." She went back inside and ignored Luke's glare at her still-in-use phone as only a Gilmore could. She covered the receiver as she reached her table. "Is it OK if Dean joins us?" Lane buried her head in her hands in exasperation. "La-ane!" Lane nodded into her hands. "I love you!" Rory uncovered the receiver. "Lane says it's fine."

"Great. See you soon."

It wasn't until Dean came in, grinning, that Rory realized just how much she'd missed his smile; she felt an answering one light up her face. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Oh my god," Lane said, dropping her face into her arms as Dean came and sat next to Rory.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You two! You're so . . . how are you like this when you're not even a couple? I mean I know you have a date later, but _come on_. There are practically rainbows coming out your butts."

"That's a colorful way of putting it," Dean said, looking bemused.

"Yeah, well, shoe, fits, wear."

"OK, OK, you've made your point," Rory cut in. "We will attempt to tone down the cute factor until later."

"Thank you."

Dean and Rory grinned at each other.

"That is _not_ toning it down!"

They were interrupted by Luke, who came over, looking surlier than usual. "What'll you have?"

"Just coffee for now," Rory said.

"Same," said Lane.

"Yeah, just coffee," Dean murmured, not making eye contact with Luke.

"Coming right up," Luke said, and stormed off to yell at Kirk, who was marking up his menu with a Sharpie.

"What was that about?" Rory asked Dean.

"Oh, uh, it's kind of embarrassing," he told her sheepishly.

"And since when have you not been able to tell us your embarrassing stories?" Lane asked in an insulted tone.

"Fine. At my . . . bachelor party, I got pretty drunk, and we ended up here, and Luke let me crash upstairs when it became clear that I'd done all the partying that was good for me. And, uh, I think I said some stuff in my drunken state. And it's not like I was ever Luke's favorite person to begin with, so having that whole thing on top of it, especially since I ended up calling off the wedding, just makes everything a little awkward. I'm hoping it'll blow over eventually."

"I'm sure it will," Rory reassured him.

"So," Dean said, brightening, "how have you been?"

"Since we talked yesterday?" Rory asked, smiling.

"Oh my _god_." Lane said.

Rory and Dean turned to her.

"If you two don't stop . . . _this_ . . . I'm just going to take my things and go home and actually do my homework! I'm not kidding!"

They were still laughing when Luke brought Dean's coffee.

"Thanks, Luke."

Luke grunted and went to confiscate the second Sharpie that Kirk had produced after Luke took the first one.

"OK, then," Dean said. "Lane, why don't you tell us what's going on around town."

"Much better," she said, and launched into the minutiae of Stars Hollow happenings. The subject got them all through their coffee, deciding what to order for lunch, and right up until their food arrived. Then, while they ate, they swapped stories about the cafeteria food at their respective schools, Rory and Dean comparing it negatively to the fare they got when at home, Lane doing the opposite, and explaining about her various methods for smuggling school food home to supplement her mother's ultra-healthy, ultra-bland cooking.

When Luke came to clear their plates, he commented on their unopened books. "Silly Luke," said Rory. "No self-respecting college student does homework on a Saturday if there's any possible excuse to avoid it."

"Then why bring your stuff?"

"It's all about the veneer of responsibility. And plausible deniability."

"Of course. Should've known."

He turned, very deliberately, to Dean. "So, is that actually true of all students, or is this you and Lane going along with Gilmore weirdness again?"

"Believe it or not, actually true of all students."

"Wonders never cease," Luke said, and took their plates.

"See?" Rory said to Dean. "He's coming around."

"Yeah, I guess so. So, what homework did you two bring to not do?"

By the time they'd finished comparing homework loads, it was 1:30.

"OK. You two have actually lasted an impressively long time, so this is me officially giving you permission to head over to Weston's and commence the date portion of the day," Lane said when the conversation reached a lull.

"You sure?" asked Rory.

"Positive."

"Have I mentioned recently that you're the best best friend ever?"

"No."

"Well, you're the best best friend ever."

"I know. And one of these days I'm going to make you write that sentence one hundred times and put it in a fancy frame for me to keep forever."

"Will do!" said Rory, grinning, as she packed up her things while Dean did the same.

"Thanks, Lane," he said, following Rory out the door.

Without thinking about it, they reached out and took each others' hands, froze, looked down at their entwined hands, then at each other. Rory raised her eyebrows and shrugged questioningly. Dean smiled shyly and shrugged back, and they crossed the street hand-in-hand.

Inside Luke's, Lane, who had seen the whole thing, shook her head in fond exasperation.


End file.
